


Do Me

by Dashboardjuliet



Category: The Daevabad Trilogy - S. A. Chakraborty
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, total filth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:25:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23100133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dashboardjuliet/pseuds/Dashboardjuliet
Summary: Who knew Nahri had a dirty talk kink?
Relationships: Darayavahoush e-Afshin/Nahri
Comments: 3
Kudos: 18





	Do Me

**Author's Note:**

> This is pure filth inspired by the song Do Me by Kim Petras. That's it.

“Do you remember,” Dara whispers, no,  _ pants _ into her ear, his voice heavy and breath hot on her neck, “the first time we touched?”

She does, Nahri thinks, and will never be able to forget the moment their hands had finally touched in the cemetery in Cairo, how her skin had crawled in the most beautiful way when their fingertips had barely brushed one another as she sought to run past him. Even  _ then _ , she thinks, she knew it would always be him.

Nahri nods, but it’s hard to do anything other than moan. He’s rutting into her, rubbing his cock on her ass, with his arm wrapped around her, hand buried in her underwear. His fingers are slick between her thighs, working in and out of her in a near constant motion that leaves her breathless. They’re  _ thick _ , his fingers, and two of them are enough to make her ache. He is far too good at this, she thinks, as his thumb rubs at her clit. She clenches, throws her head back, resting it on his shoulder. His lips collide with her neck, sucking at a spot underneath her ear that pushes her over the edge. The tightness that had built low in her belly burst, and she sees white for a moment before she comes back to her body, clouded with a hazy fog of satisfaction. His fingers are still moving slowly in and out of her, calming her down, she thinks. She tightens her thighs to get him to stop, overly sensitive, and he listens, pulling his fingers from her leggings, her skirt already pushed aside and discarded. They’re slick with her wetness, and it’s attractive in a way she doesn’t understand.

“You were magic then. I was so angry and confused, but you were a solid point, so fixed and real. And so  _ fucking _ beautiful.” He’s staring at his fingers, and she is too, watching as he brings them up to his mouth, sucking them clean. She’s mesmerized by the sight of him, mouth falling open uncontrollably. Her actions aren’t her own as she flips around to climb on top of him, pushing him to lay flat. She kisses him as she works at taking her leggings, kicking off her intricate skirt, the gauzy orange fabric drifting to the floor while she shucks off the skintight cloth underneath, noticing a distinct taste in his mouth that she’s never tasted before, something she decides must be her. She’s tasting herself on his lips, and she grinds down against him at the thought, making him gasp. Her hands make quick work of her clothing, undershirt and binding cloth coming loose and dropping down onto the stone ground, and she repeats the motion on him, raking her hands up underneath his sweater to pull it off of him. He complies, raises his arms and lets her handle getting their shirts off. Rocking upward, Dara rolls her further down so he can sit up, and she enjoys her little she feels underneath his touch. He’s giant, and it becomes more obvious the more naked they are, barriers down between them.

His lips lock on to her breast, finding her nipple to suck on, his other hand coming up to pay attention to her other breast, fingers tweaking that nipple into a peak. She rolls her head back, lets her body follow that path of motion, hips moving in a simple rhythm. It’s uncoordinated slightly, unfamiliar and unpracticed, but with  _ Dara  _ touching her,  _ Dara’s  _ lips pursing her nipple into a peak before moving to the next breast,  _ Dara’s _ hands skimming over her thighs and making her muscles twitch,  _ his _ breath warming the skin of her chest that has been cooled by the night air, everything feels  _ right.  _ There is no other place she wants to be except here with him underneath her, his hands on her body and mouth on her breast.  _ This _ is where she belongs.

“Dara, Dara… Husband,” Nahri says his name, then again, before rolling her eyes at him entirely. She looks down at him, his mouth still playing with her breast, the skin of it almost soaked from his attention. His eyes look up at the mention of his name, darker green than she’s ever seen them before, and blown wide. He pulls his lips away with a pop, and the look of pride on his face as he watches her nipple grow harder in the cold air, makes her blush with a smile. 

“Yes, Wife?” He answers, voice thick, and she shivers at his tone. She loves when he calls her that. They’ve been married for what feels like forever at this point, but she will never get tired of the way he says the word ‘wife’, how his lips form around it, just like how he uses them on her. 

“I need you, please.” His hand has moved from her thigh back to her cunt as she speaks, fingers perfectly gliding against her slick. They dance around her entrance, and she squirms to follow them, to get them _ in. _

“How do you need me,  _ Wife? _ ” His fingers retract and come to rest on her thigh again, leaving wet circles on her skin. He knows what he is doing, and the pathetic little whine that his antics pull from her makes her feel far too needy. She doesn’t like feeling this way, entirely at the mercy of another being, but for  _ him _ , she’ll let herself be needy, be desperate, be  _ wanting _ .

“I need you inside of me,” She specifies, rolling her hips again, pressing down on his cock, slick coating him. His hand, the one gripping her thigh tightens, but he doesn’t let his expression change. His eyes are still focused on hers, and his two fingers are still there, close enough, taunting.

“ _ How _ do you need me, Wife. I want to hear you say it.” His lips curl around the words, teeth so white against his tan skin. She wants to wipe the smirk off of them, but she’s too weak in the moment. She’s not in the mood for giving, for being in command. No, she just wants to recieve, which apparently means indulging her husband’s antics and desire to hear her be crudely specific about what she needs from him. 

“Dara, Husband,  _ love of my fucking life, _ ” She aims her gaze downward, leaning closer to his mouth, eyes glued to his tongue when it darts out to wet his top lip, “I want your cock in me right now. I want you to fuck me so hard that I forget what goddamn century it is. Is that specific enough for you?” She’s panting by the time she’s done, hand almost clawed into his chest, nails digging into his skin, although he doesn’t seem to notice the pain. A lazy grin spreads across his lips as he leans in to split the distance between her.

“Was that so hard,” He asks, warm breath ghosting across her cheek as he places a kiss on it while his hands reach under her thighs to  _ lift _ her up, while she reaches down, none to gently grabbing his cock and tilting it upward for him, so that when he lowers her down, oh so slowly, it is perfectly on to him. “especially when you paint such a pretty picture?”

There’s a moment where she thinks she might be capable of responding, of telling him to keep his beautiful mouth quiet, but those thoughts go out the brain when she finally starts to feel the burn of her stretching around him, of the slow movement of him inside of her till he bottoms out and his hips are slotted snugly against her thighs. Then it definitely all goes out the door when he starts to speak again.

“I wish you could see how prettily you take my cock,” his voice is warbling, but the effect is still the same. She clenches around him, drops her head forward while her hands come up to bracket themselves by his shoulders. His one hand is on her waist, but his other, his fucking _other_ _hand_ is down at her cunt, dancing between her clit and her lips. He’s thumbing them, pushing them around and it’s just too much, especially when he bucks upward, jolting her into a moan. Then he does it again, and then _again,_ and she starts to lose it.

“You stretch so nice for me, and you’re so fucking  _ warm.  _ I wish you could feel how tight you feel around me.” He’s always been vocal, always unafraid to voice his desire. It’s something that she’s honestly encouraged. He should be able to ask and voice his desires and how he feels. The unintended side effect is that he loves to narrate, and she fucking  _ loves  _ it. He’s moving more and more, his cock hitting that spot inside her that makes her feel blindsided, his thumb rubbing at her clit at just the right speed.

“And do you want to know,  _ Wife _ , how I know how close you are to coming?” 

She shakes her head, although she’s quite sure she knows the words that are going to come out of his stupid beautiful mouth.

“It’s because I know just how to touch you,” he says, with a particularly placed thrust and touch on her clit, “and now I want you to come for me, Nahri. Come.”

It’s a command, but one that she knows, if she didn’t follow, there would be no consequence for. Regardless, her body is perfectly ready to do as he says. She throws her head back, a scream coming from her as she squeezes her eyes shut, her cunt clenching around him. Dara thrusts a few more times, bucking up with both his arms wrapping around her midsection now, lips coming to kiss right between her breasts, before he seizes, and a moan comes from his lips too, muffled in her skin.

They stay like that, his softening cock inside of her, her head tilted back, his arms wrapped tightly around her body.

“Dara…” she starts, trying to catch her breath.

“Nahri…”

“Do you think you can go again?”

“For you, always.”

  
  



End file.
